Clowns and bears lay scattered across the bedspread, colorful yet lifeless. A cattail clock swung rhythmically above the fireplace, which crackled and hissed as green applewood released its sharp aroma. Beneath a tapestry-covered table, the wary eyelid of a slumbering canary rose and fell in sync with its breathing, exhaling snores that sounded like whistles.
Hanging from a horseshoe on the door, a small blue robe with a rabbit on the pocket gently swayed in time with the clock, stirred by a wandering breeze. Shadows spattered the walls, painted by the flickering firelight in a chaotic pattern. From the bed came the sound of slow, steady breathing; the quilt rose and fell over a small, sleeping figure beneath.
A creak came from outside the door, which opened to reveal the mother checking in before heading to bed herself. The noise disturbed the child, who stirred and sat up, rubbing sleepy eyes.
"Mamma, I had a strange dream," said the child. The mother approached, curling comfortably up on the bed, gently brushing damp, tousled strands away from her child’s forehead.
"You did? Tell Mamma about your dream." In the warmth of her mother's embrace, the child recounted tales of towering, pink, hairless monsters, upright and wild-eyed, making strange noises and riding in fearsome, shiny chariots with huge wheels.
As the child shared the tale, a sense of calm returned, and they settled back into bed. The mother smoothed the pillow and placed a loving kiss on the small, drowsy head. "Sleep well, little one," she said, with one final, reassuring glance as she left the room.
A near-silence fell, like a rain of feathers. Amid the swishing of the cattail clock and the dancing firelight, the small wolf twitched, dreaming once again of humanity.